


Interlude

by westminster



Category: House M.D.
Genre: 5+1 Things, First Kiss, M/M, based around season three ish, bed sharing, house has no boundaries, so many potential sexual harassment lawsuits, wilson is so oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 04:29:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15622566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westminster/pseuds/westminster
Summary: 5 times House kissed Wilson + 1 time Wilson kissed House





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> My second attempt at writing this pairing because they're just so adorable! Kudos & comments are greatly appreciated, and I hope you like it!

**5**

House's juggling balls land on the floor of his office with a squeak. They roll across the carpet in various directions, though House is completely oblivious to this. His eyes are focusing on more important things. Namely, James Wilson. And that is because Wilson is currently hobbling into his office, wincing with discomfort. House quickly notices that Wilson can’t put much weight on his right leg, and he practically flops with relief into the nearby armchair. House feels a sudden pang of sympathy, and it throws him off guard. _When did he start doing the whole 'emotions' thing? That is definitely not something he wants to sign up for._ Wilson senses something's off and shoots House a quizzical look. The mysterious sympathetic feeling disappears as quickly as it came and House quickly attempts to cover up any evidence of it's existence.

"I know you idolize me but my limp isn't a fashion statement, Jimmy."

Wilson actually laughs at that, stretching his legs and huffing, “I’m not stealing your schtick, ok? I just grazed my leg on something coming in, it's no big deal.” 

Wilson leaves House with no choice. The ability to mock him is just too irresistible - “ _Oh_... so you want me to play sexy nurse and fix you injury?” House adopts a mock-baby voice, sticking out his bottom lip dramatically, “You could’ve just asked if you wanted me to kiss it better, pookie.” 

Wilson simply raises his eyebrows, a look of pure disinterest on his face. After this many years of House's games, not much can faze him anymore. He starts to reel off a list of a newly-admitted patient’s symptoms, even though he knows House isn’t listening to a word he’s saying. 

“So, what do you think? Could it be cardiovascular disease?”  

He doesn’t expect an answer, and doesn't receive one either. He watches House carefully as he wanders over to the nearby cabinets, fishing out a few items that Wilson can't see. He's about to question it, to ask, to protest, to complain. But then House is there, positioning himself on the floor in front of Wilson, pulling a face as he moves his leg. Wilson's brain doesn't even have time to process what's happening before House is hiking up his trousers - Wilson's too stunned to breath. 

Finally, he begins to faintly protest, "House... you really don't need to do this, it's a minor graze, most people wouldn't even look twice - it's not even bleeding."

He's ignored because House is House: he's never been the one to do anything half-heartedly. Instead, he takes the time to carefully swab the patch of skin with anti-septic despite Wilson's small, repeated objections.

"Well, we can't have dear old Dr. Wilson limping about like me, can we? But then again the cancer kids would probably end up comforting you."

Wilson lets himself enjoy the moment, to enjoy the coolness of the lotion against his skin and the soft touch of House's hands. Soft. He chuckles to himself about that, the idea that he'd be describing anything to do with House as 'soft' seemed faintly ridiculous. He closes his eyes and leans his head against the back of the chair as House takes out a band-aid. He's ready to stick it over the graze when he halts for a tiny minute. He's not sure what prompts it, but House leans in and plants a small, chaste kiss on the wound.  Before Wilson has had the chance to open his eyes, let alone protest, he quickly puts the on the band-aid and grabs Wilson by arm to help him up.

"All better?" House says condescendingly, to break the awkward silence that has crept up on the pair. 

Wilson has his hands placed firmly on his hips. "Was that really necessary?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Now come on, I'm sure the hot chick who's lungs are collapsing wants me to kiss her pain away too."

 

**4**

 

"The only way our pretty little nun could have caught this disease is if she'd had sex with someone recently and if that someone was female and if that someone _was wearing lip balm like Wilson is now."_

The whole team's eyes snap up to Wilson, as quick as lightening. They're staring at him with a mixture of confusion and judgement but Wilson merely rolls his eyes response.

"I have chapped lips!"

"Ah yes, very heterosexual of you, Wilson."

House shoots Wilson a questioning eye and Wilson knows that the interrogation is about to began.

"What flavor is it? - strawberry? cherry?"

With every guess, he takes a step closer to Wilson

"Birthday cake?" he announces accusingly.

"I'm not telling you," Wilson says, hands placed firmly on his hips.

House is now close to Wilson. Too close. He can feel Wilson's breath on his nose and the way Wilson's staring at him is making his heart thump loudly. He takes a single glance at Wilson's lips, plump and open and inviting. He's made his decision.

"You don't need to."

With a dramatic flourish, he kisses Wilson, tongue moving to lick Wilson's bottom lip. 

He doesn't even wait for Wilson's stunned reaction, or to see the team's shocked faces, he struts out with a shout of, "Mmm... coconut."

 

3 

 

James Wilson thinks that you could cut the sexual tension between House and Cameron with a knife. From that last sentence, you can easily surmise that James Wilson is also pretty stupid when it comes to love.

This is also why they’re in some bland pub right now: Wilson, House, Cameron and Chase (Foreman just flat out refused - he's past the point of making lousy excuses.) And also why Wilson’s frantically trying to get House as drunk as possible, because it’ll make him slower at deducing that Wilson’s playing matchmaker. He can pinpoint the exact moment when he realizes he might have gone overboard with the alcohol: when House drunkenly declared that they just _have_ to play truth or dare. 

Instantly, the declaration is met by Chase’s protest of, “I’m 30 not 13...” 

“You are just terrified of my superior questioning skills," House shoots back. He's worked with Chase long enough to know how easily manipulated he is. Although, It does seem like Chase won't budge at first. That is until House pulls out the chicken noises, to Wilson's sheer embarrassment. Somehow, it works and Chase caves.

"Fine. _One round."_

It starts relatively disaster-free, with House getting Chase to admit the sex with Cameron was the best he'd ever had. Wilson temporarily worries that this might disrupt his amazing matchmaker plan, but judging by the way Cameron just sighs, he thinks he's in the clear. House admits to kissing Cuddy, followed by screams of, "One time! One incident!" Now, _that_  shocks Wilson 

Then, all to late, he realizes it's his turn. He stares at House in anticipation, waiting for the torture to happen. Surprisingly, it's Cameron who shouts, "I dare Wilson to kiss the most attractive person at this table."

If that was unexpected, Wilson could never have prepared himself for what was to follow. Specifically, House's instinctive reply of, "Impossible, he can’t kiss himself."

Wilson doesn't know which one of them is the most shocked by this revelation.

House observes all their stunned faces and decides, not for first time, that the creation of the human race was a huge mistake. “Aesthetically speaking! Wilson can’t be that bad looking, he’s had more marriages than Chase’s had girlfriends for Christ’s sake! Or boyfriends, I don’t judge.” He ends with a wink directed Chase’s way. 

Chase pulls a face at House then leans back in his chair, folding his arms.

“Well then, House, I dare _you_ to kiss the most attractive person in the room.” 

_This is perfect_ , Wilson thinks, _House will kiss Cameron and then she’ll finally realize her feelings are reciprocated._ Wilson is a blind, oblivious idiot.

He doesn’t know this yet, because House leans very, very closely into Cameron. He’s not staring her in the eyes though, not even ghosting his eyes down to her lips, his eye line is directly at her breasts, which are extenuated by her low cut top.

Wilson suddenly pictures a pile of sexual harassment paperwork. 

But then he’s snapped out of his reverie by House suddenly turning to him, and since there’s no breasts to look at on Wilson, he’s actually _looking_ at him. Wilson has time to blurt out a quick, “but you've already had you're turn!” before House’s lips are on his.

It could never have been just a chaste peck with House, he always has to blur the lines between professional and personal. He’s moving his lips against Wilson’s paralyzed mouth, and it’s far past romantic, it’s a show. Everything with House is - over the top, trying to fit his tongue into Wilson’s mouth, messy and unrestricted, practically devouring the oncologist’s face. Then there’s a cheer, that starts with Chase and suddenly floods the whole bar. There’s whooping and claps and Wilson feels like there’s hundreds of eyes on him. 

Even in moments like this, Wilson thinks of House. Of how to protect him, what’s best for him. And he doesn’t want House's team to berate him if Wilson doesn't kiss back. Sure, It’s flawed, hastily drawn logic, but the taste of House on his lips is beginning to short-circuit his brain. He still refuses the let House’s tongue in - now _that_ would require some kind of deep emotional conversation afterwards, and Wilson just wants to enjoy the moment. Because House is a damn good kisser and he can taste the whisky and something uniquely _House_ in the back of his mouth that’s making him go completely crazy. 

It’s when he actually feels a pang of lust for House that he breaks the kiss, in shock more than anything. Because they’re in a bar, and everyone’s watching them, and oh, how Wilson wishes this would’ve happened somewhere else. 

As quick as a flash, House leaps up, a brief look of pain on his face as he transfers the weight back to his good leg. He takes a big dramatic bow as various people cheer, and signals towards Wilson, who’s blushing profusely. And then it hits Wilson, a painfully sharp bolt of reality. _It’s just a show_ , he realizes sadly,  _none of this meant anything to him, it’s just a performance._

It takes a minute for Cameron and Chase to regain the ability to speak. 

Cameron can’t help but laugh. 

“When’s the wedding?” 

House sticks out his tongue, “Like I said, I'm speaking purely from a point of aesthetics."

_Purely from a point of aesthetics._

The phrase dances around Wilson's head as he chases sleep on House’s couch. 

 

**2**

 

Speaking of which,

"House, where the hell is the couch?"

"Umm.. right now it's in a dark alley about five blocks away from here being slept on by a very lucky homeless person." 

Wilson rubs his forehead, severely regretting not picking up some aspirin on the way to House's apartment.

"Do I even want to ask?"

House pulls a face, limping into the kitchen to check the contents of the fridge. Wilson doesn't follow him, and instead remains standing there, gaze fixed onto the empty space where the couch once was until House shouts, "It smelled weird."

Wilson sighs, because what else _can_ he do in these situations? Finally succumbing to House, he follows him into the kitchen, leaning against one of the counters. House is bent over, rooting through the shelves for something edible. Wilson would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't enjoying the view - House didn't need to know that, though.

"And it never crossed your mind to, I don't know, _clean it up?_ "

That makes House snap up, and the painful wince that follows tugs at Wilson's heartstrings. Wilson's sympathy drops though when House proceeds to point his cane at him menacingly, shouting, "Oh, make the cripple clean up, real nice, Wilson. I always knew the caring act was a façade! What would the cancer kids think if they could see you now? Really setting a bad example there..."

Wilson's response was to list every single person who could've have clean up for him: himself, a maid..... well that was it, really. _But still!_

"God Wilson, always a drama queen." 

"Oh yeah I'm really exaggerating this, it's not a huge thing, y'know _having no place to sleep."_

"The floor seems pretty comfy - there's a rug there and everything."

"I'm not a dog! You take the floor, I'll take the bed."

"See, I'd really love to because that's what I kind, loving person I am," House speaks with the grandeur of a Shakespearean actor, every word is a performance to him, every sentence intricately laced in sarcasm, "I really wish I could, Wilson, but it's such a shame that I can't manage it with a poorly leg."

"It's what you deserve," says Wilson, who's clearly had enough of this conversation and is currently heading towards House's bedroom. House follows him, purely out of interest, wondering how far he can push Wilson, whether or not he'd really sleep on the floor. Before he can test this hypothesis, Wilson's toeing off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt so he's left in only his undershirt and trousers. House can't help but stare at him in disbelief. Now there's a move even he hadn't expected.

For the first time in a long, long time, he's rendered completely unsure. All he can do is mumble, "I beg to differ." 

Wilson stares House in the eye, deadly serious, "Then beg."

House actually smiles at that, but his expression quickly changes to confusion as House begins to watch Wilson closely. House analyzes his every move like one of his dying patients as Wilson climbs into his bed, pulls up the covers and closes his eyes. House merely shrugs to himself, he's too tired to start another argument, he knows Wilson won't be leaving his bed anytime soon. Or, at least that's what he tries to convince himself. The reality that he likes Wilson in his bed, that the whole couch fiasco was an over-elaborate plot to get James Wilson in his bed, would be too much for him to handle. Instead, he gives in to his current craving of banality and structure and heads into the bathroom, like he does every night. The only thing that changes is the fact that he drags out every little action, spending more time than necessary brushing his teeth and changing, debating how to handle the current situation. When he finally returns to the bedroom, Wilson has changed position and House notices a neat pile of folded clothes on the floor with Wilson's trousers on the top. House eyes up Wilson's seemingly sleeping body, and finds his brain cannot process the situation. _James Wilson. James Wilson in House's bed. James Wilson in his underwear in House's bed._

House's eyes catch the dim glow of his alarm, 11:56 and decides that now isn't the time for a crisis of sexuality. He climbs slowly into bed, trying to get comfortable as far away from Wilson as possible. Being near Wilson would mean he'd have to assert the situation mentally. That would make it more real than it needed to be and if it was more real, he might do something he'd regret. So he'll leave it, positioning a pillow between the two so he doesn't disturb Wilson in the night. As he's trying to find a position that numbs the aching pain of his leg, his toes brush against the back of Wilson's lower thigh and it sends a spike of electricity shooting up his spine. _This is ridiculous_ , he thinks, sitting up to examine the situation. Maybe if his brain sees Wilson, it will rationalize it and let him sleep. _That makes sense, right? Yes, he'll do that._ _Just take a little glimpse at Wilson._ However, House is more than a little stunned at his beauty. Wilson's hair is crumpled, mouth open slightly to let out warm breath that House can feel on his arm, and House can't stop thinking about how soft he looks. And with those thoughts still whizzing around his mind, he leans in and whispers, "good night," kissing Wilson on the forehead.

He's getting sentimental and he hates it.

 

**1**  

 

And so it becomes a regular thing, Wilson sleeping in his bed. They don't speak about it. Even when House gets a new couch, Wilson still sleeps in House's bed. A comforting presence, guiding House through his pains and nightmares. 

They could've been fine like that, but because the non-existent gods clearly hate House, the amicability refuses to last.

House wakes up to a leg wrapped around his, locking him in position, and a rising and falling stomach underneath his arm. And then it comes back to him. Wilson. In his bed. 

The most important factor about being in this compromising position is House's mouth. Because House's mouth isn't currently doing it's normal thing of shouting insults at the nearest person to him. No, it's involved in far more incriminating acts. Mainly resting against Wilson's neck. It's intoxicating. The smell of Wilson, his presence, his soft breaths. House hates it. He hates the compulsion to press his lips against that patch of skin he likes so much.

So, he does it. Since when did House not act on impulse? But as he lies there, lips tight around Wilson’s neck, he can’t help but feel a little - umm, _sexual assault-y?_ It’s stupid, he knows, the amount of times he’s ‘jokingly’ made a move on an unsuspecting Wilson outnumber the grains of sand in Arabia. This time seems different though, because Wilson is so vulnerable in his sleepy state, because Wilson can’t make a funny quip back, because his team isn’t there to stare in disbelief, because House can’t defend his actions by calling it a performance. No, this is real. And that truly terrifies House.

Taking his lips off of Wilson’s neck, he switches to stroking Wilson’s hair like he’d do with stray cats as a boy. It soothed him, to see Wilson so comfortable, so content in this perfect little bubble of ignorance. Eyes flickering up to the clock, he calculated that Wilson wouldn’t wake up for another three hours at least. 

Three hours. Three hours to enjoy this moment, where House could pretend they were some sort of dysfunctional couple. Where House could feasibly sink his head back under Wilson’s chin without fearing the consequences. Where House could bury himself into Wilson’s arms and finally let sleep take him. A few hours. That's all the time he's got to enjoy this simplicity. This tiny, domestic moment that he's finding he loves incredibly. So he allows himself this little moment, he allows himself to nest his face in Wilson's hair and tighten his grip around Wilson's waist slightly, and drift off back to sleep.

 

**\+ 1**

 

Wilson wakes up first. House didn't calculate that happening. Wilson never wakes up first.

He looks shocked more than anything, blinking rapidly at House, who's arms are still wrapped around Wilson's waist. He blinks again, with a face that clearly screams 'what the hell is happening.'

"Wilson. _James_. Stop blinking or I'll remove your optic nerve and strangle you with it, ok?" 

Wilson lets out a small, strained laugh in response. He's truly lost for words.

They stay like that for a good minute or two, until House can't stand the silence any longer, "Even I, the magnificent Gregory House, am not quite sure what level of reality I'm supposed to be operating on. Am I awake? Is this even real?"

Wilson knows exactly what House is doing. House has forced him to watch hundreds of trashy rom-coms - how else is he supposed to react other than with the cliched line, "Want me to prove it then?"

In fear of a hopelessly cheesy line escaping House's lips in response, Wilson chooses instead to kiss him. Taking his time, slow and gentle and conveying everything that House is too stubborn to admit with words.

Eventually they have to come up for air, but still leave their noses touching.

"Still not convinced I'm real? Need another kiss?"

"Oh no, you're real alright, a real pain in the ass." 

Wilson actually laughs at that comment, and wraps his arms tightly around House's neck. House finds himself automatically reciprocating, the embrace filling his body with warmth, comfort and most importantly, _hope._ Yes, he could definitely get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> want to send me a prompt? I have tumblr! - @mandelsons - follow me!


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